


Irreplaceable

by smallestsenpai



Category: SPY x FAMILY (Manga)
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Couch Cuddles, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, Marriage, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallestsenpai/pseuds/smallestsenpai
Summary: Compared to the real Mrs. Forger, Yor probably looked like a pitiful excuse for a wife, fake or not.In which Yor tries to repay her husband's kindness, but needs a little help shaking the ghosts of his past that still haunt her.
Relationships: Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79
Collections: SxF Gift Exchange 2020





	Irreplaceable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [espers770](https://archiveofourown.org/users/espers770/gifts).



> Merry Christmas 2: Electric Boogaloo espers!! Everyone say thank you espers for providing me with the opportunity to bitch-slap Loid so he can get over his emotional constipation and comfort his wife because it's what she deserves damnit!!

The work day had started just like any other.

As workers slowly clocked in to start their day, the office began to come alive with the sound of employees going about their daily routine. Yor had spent the majority of her morning filling out paperwork, filing documents, and answering the phone in that order. It was a pattern she’d long grown accustomed to since starting at Berlint City Hall, a rhythm that defined the majority of her work day.

However, other thoughts preoccupied her mind this morning, thoughts surrounding a particular blond husband of hers. Though the two of them worked diligently to provide for their little family, with each passing day Loid seemed to grow more and more exhausted. He worked long, weird hours at the hospital; his schedule barely made any sense to her, but she chalked that up to her lack of familiarity with the medical field and physician profession as a whole. Still, he was often the first one up and the last one home. Even when he managed to come home earlier than anticipated or found himself with a rare day off, he busied himself working around the apartment. Though he was always quick to reassure her everything was fine, the exhaustion in his face did little to quell her concerns.

He did so much for them without asking for anything in return. But that couldn’t be okay, right? She wanted nothing more than to repay his kindness, yet he seemed to turn down every offer she made. Surely there had to be _something_ she could do for him, and it was this conundrum that occupied her mind today. So much so, she’d barely noticed the toll of the clock signaling the arrival of her lunch hour.

“Oh, Yor, joining us for lunch today?” Sharon remarked, watching the raven-haired woman slip into the lunchroom.

Yor nodded in response, joining her fellow coworkers at their lunch table as she placed her lunch before her.

“Smells yummy, did your husband make it for you?” Millie grinned.

“Yes, he did.” Leftovers from last night’s dinner, but they still tasted absolutely delicious, even more so a second time around.

“He’s handsome, he’s smart, he’s great with kids, _and_ he’s a great chef.” Camilla listed on her fingers before leaning back in her chair, “The man’s absolutely perfect. Is there anything he _doesn’t_ do?”

“That’s the problem.” Yor sighed, pausing to take a bite out of her lunch, “He does everything. He’s constantly working and running himself ragged, but whenever I offer to help, he reassures me that it’s fine.”

“Welcome to married life, Yor.” Sharon nodded knowingly, “Men always think they’re invincible up until they’re not. It's a bit annoying really.”

“You’ve dealt with this before?” She asked, glancing at the older woman.

“Every married woman’s dealt with it dear.” She corrected her, “Men are stubborn like that.”

Though neither of them are married, Millie and Camilla nod in agreement.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do? When he gets like that, I mean.” Yor asks, “I’m glad he’s so dependable, but caring for a family is a group effort.”

 _I want him to depend on me too_.

She doesn’t need to say it out loud for Sharon to understand.

“Oh that’s rather simple.” She pauses momentarily to sip her coffee, “I just beat him to it.”

“Beat him to it?” Yor repeats.

Sharon nods. “He wants to cook dinner? I do it before he can. He wants to clean the dishes? Already did that too.” She explains, “If there’s nothing _to_ do, then he’s got no choice but to take a break, right? You remind them you’re dependable and they get a well-deserved break. It’s a win-win situation for everyone.”

“I suppose you do have a point.” Yor reasons. On days when Anya’s out spending time with Becky after school, Yor often has the apartment to herself for hours at a time before Loid arrives. It certainly leaves her with more than enough time to cook a simple meal and clean the apartment.

“Oh! Oh! Get dolled up for him too!” Millie squealed, “He can’t stop ya if he’s too entranced by your beauty!”

“O-Oh, no, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Yor felt the tips of her ears burned as she finished off the last of her meal.

“She’s got a point, Yor.” Camilla mused, “You’re a natural beauty. If you put some effort into your appearance, I’m sure he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off of you.”

Yor opened her mouth to protest, but was interrupted by the gong of the clock signaling the end of the lunch period.

“Well? Are you going to try it?” Sharon says, glancing at her over the frame of her glasses, the other two gazing at her from behind the older woman.

Yor shifted in her seat, eyes darting between the three of them.

Surely an interrogation by a member of the State Security Service would be more forgiving than this.

“I-I guess I can give it a try.” She concedes, watching as the three women before her break out into silent cheers before quickly composing themselves as Chief Barnes enters to begin his lunch break.

The work day proceeds rather slowly after their lively lunch conversation. Though she works diligently, Yor finds herself gazing at the clock more often than usual, each tick seeming more slower than the last.

When the work day finally ended, Yor was the first one out the door. She already knew Loid would be home late, and given Anya had mentioned spending the night at the Blackwell Residence earlier that morning, it seemed as good a time as any to put this plan of hers into action. She could prepare for the evening ahead without worry, and for that she was thankful.

Her first stop led her to the supermarket. Though she still struggled when it came to picking ingredients that would come together nicely, she’d thankfully learned a thing or two by accompanying her husband on grocery runs. As an added bonus, the supermarket often advertised recipes with ingredients readily available in the store, making the process of determining what to cook that much easier for its shoppers, including Yor. She darted from aisle to aisle, rounding up the ingredients listed on the free recipe flyer she’d taken from the entrance of the store. In and out of the store in record time with a full bag of groceries in tow, Yor felt on top of the world.

Still riding the high from her run to the grocery store, Yor stops in front of the cosmetics store. She often heard Millie and Camilla talking about it frequently at work; their supposed “holy grail” when it came to makeup, it carried everything a woman could ever want. Supposedly. She’d passed by it several times both on her own and with her family, but she’d never really bothered acknowledging it. It’s not like she wore any makeup to begin with, and trying to understand makeup seemed like a daunting task she wasn’t sure she could handle. Still, Camilla’s words rang in her ears.

_If you put some effort into your appearance, I’m sure he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off of you._

One rather overwhelming first visit to the cosmetics store later, Yor leaves with a small packet nestled inside her grocery bag. A simple tube of mascara and a tube of lipstick in a soft shade of red are the only two items inside. The woman who’d been kind enough to help her (after noticing her bewildered expression upon entering the store) had recommended both products. She’d also tried to recommend her some foundation and concealer, but the concepts were so foreign they made Yor’s head spin. Mascara and lipstick were more than enough. More than enough for what exactly? Even Yor wasn’t sure anymore.

_If you put some effort into your appearance, I’m sure he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off of you._

She shook her head viciously, drawing curious stares from nearby passersby as she started towards the apartment, making it a point to ignore the growing heat developing on her cheeks.

Upon arriving home to an empty apartment, Yor quickly got to work. Though their apartment was normally neat and tidy, it had fallen into a slight state of disarray between Loid’s late nights at the hospital and Yor’s nightly escapades, to put it nicely. Thankfully, cleaning house was something that she excelled at, even when no bodies or blood were involved. She momentarily debated cleaning Loid’s room as well but decided against it. Though they’d definitely grown more comfortable with each other, they still largely avoided entering each other’s rooms unless invited by the other. Anya’s room, on the other hand, was an absolute _mess_ she absolutely needed to organize before Loid’s arrival.

As anticipated, the apartment was cleaned and organized in record time. With more than enough time to spare for dinner, Yor slipped into the bathroom and out of her work uniform, opting for a quick shower before starting on the meal. Donning her usual casual attire, she turned to face the mirror, eyes fixed on the cosmetics she’d brought with her. Despite years working as an assassin, the two little tubes of makeup standing before her on the sink were more intimidating than any mission she’d ever been assigned. The lipstick was simple enough. The mascara, on the other hand, was nearly the death of her. The applicator looked more like a torture device as opposed to something meant for use near one’s eyes.

Several failed attempts and many colorful words later, she once again inspected herself in the mirror. The lipstick seemed jarring against her skin, and the mascara made her look like a frightened deer caught in headlights. If makeup was meant to enhance one’s natural beauty, it didn’t feel like it. Or maybe it just simply felt that way because she’d never bothered to deal with makeup in the first place. Whatever the reason was, she could figure it out later. There were bigger matters to attend to.

Dinner.

Yor’s culinary repertoire was still largely limited to simple meals, save for Southern Stew. However, the meatloaf recipe advertised at the supermarket seemed simple enough. Combine the ingredients, season, and bake. It was straight forward enough. She’d even splurged a little and bought a nice bottle of wine to share over dinner. It was still nerve-wracking all the same, but she was doing this for Loid she reminded herself, and that was all the reassurance she needed.

Yet as Yor stood before the cutting board, knife in hand, an overwhelming feeling of dread washed over her. She steals herself in an attempt to ignore it, free hand firmly holding the onion in place. She chops slowly at first, deliberately. A familiar burning feeling pricks at her eyes, and she absentmindedly rubs them with the back of her hand. It’s only after a few seconds that she realizes the black smudge belongs to her mascara. No matter, she can always touch it up before his arrival. She continues chopping, but her eyes drift towards the smudge. Her cuts become less uniform and more sloppy. She inhales sharply, hissing and retracting her hand as steel meets skin. It’s not a deep cut, but it bleeds nonetheless.

Yor presses her lips against her thumb momentarily in an effort to soothe the injury. However, the lipstick only makes it look worse. No matter, she can touch that up too. She resumes chopping, but her cuts are less precise as the hand holding the knife begins to tremble. She cringes, feeling steel meet skin again, and again, and again, but she perseveres.

She’s handled countless bladed weapons and sustained injuries far more life-threatening than anything a simple kitchen knife could do. Yet, each accidental nick only feels like it strikes deeper and deeper. There’s no reason why this should be this difficult, and no reason why she should be struggling so much. She’d cooked plenty of times for Yuri growing up, had she not? This is something a wife should be able to do, is it not?

But she’s not a _real_ wife.

Their relationship was built on a foundation of lies and selfish conveniences. She needed to avoid raising suspicions, and he needed to get his daughter into a good school to fulfill his late wife’s dying wish.

Her hand stills momentarily.

What was Mrs. Forger like? The _real_ Mrs. Forger? Loid rarely spoke of her, and she dared not mention it less she accidentally reopened old wounds. Try as she might though, she couldn’t help _but_ think of her. Loid was practically perfect in every sense of the word. Surely his wife had to have been the same way? And now here she was. She couldn’t cook. She often broke things because of her brutish strength. She didn’t understand the fine arts and operas made her head spin. She hid behind alcohol to be brave, but it only made things worse for those around her. Yor had no right to stand where she once stood.

Compared to the _real_ Mrs. Forger, Yor probably looked like a pitiful excuse for a wife, fake or not.

She stares down at the mangled onion, a familiar prickling sensation spreading across her eyes once more. This time, however, she can’t blame it on the massacred vegetable. She moves to throw the onion in the garbage, but stops as she hears the distinct _click_ of the front door unlocking.

“Yor?”

Her head immediately whips around towards the clock. Why was he home so _early_ ? He shouldn’t have been back for a few more hours at the very least. The kitchen’s an absolute mess, _she’s_ an absolute mess.

“Yor, are you home?” Loid calls out again, making note of her coat hanging on the rack besides the door.

“O-Oh, Loid! Hello! You’re home early!” She replies, still scrambling around the kitchen. Cleaning house _is_ her specialty, but even her most difficult jobs provide her with more time to get the job done than this.

“Yes, the workload was lighter than expected, and a patient didn’t come in for their appointment, so they let me go early.” He explained, closing the door behind him. It wasn’t often missions wrapped up earlier than anticipated, and like hell he wasn’t going to take advantage of his momentary freedom. He hesitates at the doorway, hearing the muffled sounds of clinking metal and drawers hastily opening and closing.

“Are you in the kitchen?”

Yor practically freezes in place. The front door is only a stone’s throw away from the kitchen. Not only is she trapped, but he’s going to inadvertently see the mess she’s made by mistakenly believing she could possibly cook dinner. Another mess of hers that he’ll now have to clean up. Another problem thrown onto what’s probably an already endless list of things to deal with. She can’t face him. Not now, not like this. The disappointment on his face will be too much for her to physically handle.

She tries, and fails, to make a break for it, colliding with Loid at the entrance to the kitchen. Loid stumbles momentarily, but otherwise remains planted in place. He glances down at Yor, only to be met with the top of her head.

“Oh, sorry, Yor, I didn’t mean to- Yor?”

He follows her out of the kitchen.

“Yor, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just a bit tired is all.” 

Even she doesn’t believe the nonsense coming out of her mouth.

“Those ladies at work didn’t bother you again, did they?” Even on her worst days at work, Yor was more talkative than this. Whether she’d been congratulated by her boss on a job well done or dealt with headache after headache at work, she told him about every detail. Seeing her this quiet was, quite frankly, concerning.

“Yor, I apologize if I’m overstepping but, you know if you ever have a problem, I’m always happy to listen, right?” He asks. It’s not a line of thinking he subscribes to, primarily because in his line of work he _can’t_ afford to. The minute the mask slips, you’re done for, and that’s not a risk he’s willing to take, even with those closest to him at WISE.

With Yor, however, it’s a different story.

“Really, I don’t mind, Yor,” He speaks up again after a moment of silence, “I’m more than happy to help—”

“That _is_ the problem, Loid!” She finally chokes out.

He stops where he stands, staring at her back.

“What?”

Had he done something wrong? Had he jeopardized their relationship somehow? He racked his brain for an answer, but between shifts at the hospital and the countless missions he’d been sent on just that week alone, his mind drew a blank, and it terrified him.

“Y-You’re always having to help me.” Yor says, her voice wavering, “With meals. With Anya. You’re always cleaning up after me. You’re already busy enough as it is with work, and I only add to it. Even when I try to make things easier for you I-I end up having to rely on you and it’s just so _frustrating_ . I don’t want to be a _burden_ , I **—** I just want you to rely on me too.”

She inhales deeply, trying to gather her thoughts, but they’re a garbled mess. No doubt after hearing that ramble of hers, Loid must’ve thought so too.

“Nevermind.” Yor says simply, moving towards her bedroom.

“Yor, wait-”

“I said nevermind, it’s fine-”

“Yor, please-”

“Loid, it’s fine really-”

A hand reaches out and catches her wrist before pulling back quickly. She abruptly spins around on her heel before colliding with something, or rather, someone. Two arms wrap around her tightly, pulling her in close before she has a chance to react.

“L-Loid—?!”

He softly rests a hand on her head.

“Yor, it’s _okay.”_

And just like that, something in Yor comes undone. She tries to fight it at first, but it's inevitable at this point; she’s passed the point of no return. The prickling sensation from before overtakes her almost immediately, tears spilling out as she lets out a sound halfway between a scream and a cry. She grabs fistfuls of his shirt and cries into it in a pathetic attempt to muffle her sobs, but it only makes her body tremble more as she collapses against him.

Loid braces himself, arms tightening around her as her knees buckle beneath her. One hand lightly strokes through her hair, the other rubbing small circles against her exposed back. In some sense he’s relieved; a weight was lifted off his shoulders almost immediately as he realized that no, he had _not_ done something to jeopardize their (fake) marriage. But that relief was squashed almost immediately by the guilt he felt in not realizing how she’d felt sooner. This wasn’t even a matter of being able to properly emotionally analyze one’s targets, it was a matter of him neglecting his marital duties, fake or not.

They stay like that for what feels like an eternity; Loid holding Yor tight against him, her muffled sobs reverberating against his chest. Sobs soon give way to soft cries, until being replaced by soft whimpers and hiccups. He lets her get it out of her system before even daring to say so much as a single word.

“I help you with meals, but you help me keep the apartment clean.” He starts simply, “I help you with Anya, but your experience caring for Yuri has taught me more about raising a child than I would’ve ever learned on my own.”

He pauses momentarily, focusing on her breathing, steadily returning to a normal rhythm once more.

“You’ve saved us both more times than I can count. You’ve given Anya something she’d thought she’d never have again: safety. Comfort. The knowledge that no matter what happens, she’s cared for, she’s loved. You’re not a burden, Yor. Far from it. You’re _irreplaceable_.”

Silence stretches out between them once more. For a moment, Loid panics, his ears burning ever so slightly. Had he overdone it? Did he say something stupid?

A small sniffle from below him pulls him out from his own mind, his eyes glancing down at the woman in his arms.

“Really?” She finally manages to ask, voice weak from crying.

“Yes, really.” He reassures her.

Silence.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry, Yor, really,” He reiterates, “it’s completely f-”

“No, I mean, I got makeup on your shirt. I’m sorry.” She admits.

Oh.

Slowly, he relaxes his grip on her, resting his hands softly on her bare shoulders as he pulls them apart. Sure enough, there’s two very obvious black smudges on his shirt and one red one, not including the damp spots from where her tears had met the fabric of his shirt. He shifts his gaze back towards Yor, who’s unable to meet his gaze. He smiles softly.

“It’s alright, laundry day’s just around the corner anyway.” He chuckles, “Let me go ahead and get changed before I forget. Do you mind waiting for me on the couch?”

Yor nods, turning on her heel and proceeding back towards the living room.

Once Yor’s confident she’s out of Loid’s sight, she collapses onto the couch, an overwhelming feeling of relief crashing over her. If she hadn’t just cried her eyes out moments ago, she would’ve done so now.

_Irreplaceable._

The word plays on an endless loop inside her mind. She can’t help but grin like a fool. Real or not, the knowledge she’s irreplaceable in his eyes fills her with a comforting warmth she can’t explain. It’s selfish and she knows it, but just this once, she _wants_ to be selfish.

“Sorry for making you wait, Yor.” Loid says as he joins her in the living room, button down and slacks replaced by a simple shirt and sweatpants.

“O-Oh, no, it’s fine!” Yor stammers, scrambling to sit upright and wipe the ridiculous smile off her face before he notices. If he notices, however, he makes no mention of it. She watches as he sits down beside her, eyebrows furrowing as he holds up a damp towel.

“Leaving makeup on for very long isn’t good for your skin.” He explains simply, “Let me help.”

Yor blinks momentarily before nodding and closing her eyes. She practically jumps out of her skin as she feels two fingers tilt her face upwards, his thumb resting softly against her chin. Gently, he begins wiping her face.

“So,” He starts, “any particular reason for the makeup?”

He watches as she fidgets in place, hands curling into fists on her lap. He feels her face begin to burn, but makes no mention of it. At the very least, if makeup became a part of her daily routine, she’d never have to waste money on cosmetics in hopes of perfecting that highly sought after rosy complexion.

“O-Oh, well, I asked the ladies at work for advice on what I could do to help you out more, or at the very least encourage you to take a break so you wouldn’t tire yourself out.” She explained, “A-And they suggested that if I wore makeup you’d...you’d be too ‘entranced by my natural beauty,’ and so you’d...have to take a break.”

It sounds a thousand times more embarrassing when said out loud.

Loid’s hand stills momentarily mid-wipe, his eyes widening in surprise. It all made sense now. The kitchen, the impeccably clean apartment, the makeup. He _had_ been running on fumes this past week, but he’d never realized it’d been _that_ noticeable. Yet here she was, fretting over him to such an extent that she’d use any means necessary to get him to take a break, including herself.

“Makeup is often used to enhance or accentuate one’s natural beauty.” He remarks, ignoring the heat currently spreading across his face and instead focusing on keeping his voice steady, “You’re beautiful just as you are though, Yor, you don’t need any makeup.”

He watches as her face twists into several flustered expressions in a matter of seconds, the blush already on her cheeks deepening into such a vibrant shade of red he can practically feel the heat radiating off her. He can’t help but smile in return.

“There, all done.” He states, removing his hand from her chin and placing the now discolored towel on the coffee table. She opened her eyes, feeling more refreshed than she’d felt in days.

“Thank you.” Yor says simply, a warm smile spreading across her lips as she gazes at him.

Yup, no need for any makeup, he confirms.

“Well, it’s a bit late to start cooking dinner,” Loid notes, clearing his throat as he coughs into his closed fist, “and since you want me to take it easy...how does delivery sound?”

Yor opens her mouth to respond, only to be betrayed by the muffled rumbling of her own stomach.

He blinks in surprise, a wide grin sneaking its way onto his face.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He muses, rising from the couch and towards the phone.

The couple ultimately settle on a local, family-owned restaurant in the neighborhood with meals that’ll pair nicely with the wine Yor picked up at the supermarket earlier that day. Unwilling to abandon the comfort of the couch, they eat their meals straight from the styrofoam containers, watching _Spy Wars_ reruns because it's the most enjoyable thing currently airing. Though he can’t get drunk, Loid indulges Yor and has a drink or two. Though, it’s nothing compared to the copious amount she downs as she becomes increasingly frustrated with the nonsensical plot of the fictitious children’s television show.

“How doesh Bondman not see Princessh Honey lovesh him?!” Yor slurred, one arm waving frantically at the television.

“I’m sure he’ll realize it eventually.” Loid chuckles, more amused by her display than the show.

“Well, he better realize it shoon!” She huffs, falling against the sofa back, “He can’t keep toying with her emshions like thish!”

Her frustrations, however, eventually give way to exhaustion. Loid wasn’t sure when exactly she managed to pass out, having also surprisingly nodded off himself. When he wakes from his light slumber, he’s met with a dark apartment, illuminated only by the faint glow of the television. Judging by her breathing, Yor’s out like a light, limbs haphazardly thrown on top of him, head resting against his chest. The blanket that she’d previously retrieved earlier in the night to warm herself up now enveloping the two of them.

If he weren’t so exhausted from his rather _eventful_ week, he’d probably scold himself for falling asleep in the presence of another individual. But the reality is, he can’t bring himself to care. Whether it’s due to the exhaustion permeating throughout his body or a severe lapse in judgement, Loid can’t tell, and doesn’t bother to find out. For a brief moment, he contemplates waking Yor, eyes studying her closely as he recalls what had unfolded earlier that evening. He still had yet to properly thank her; sure, the evening may not have turned out like she had envisioned it, but he appreciated it all the same. Knowing she’d done so much, all in an effort to provide him with some much needed relaxation? It warmed his heart more than he was willing to admit.

_Irreplaceable._

That’s what he’d said, wasn’t it? He was used to saying what others wanted to hear; it came with the territory of the life he’d chosen for himself all those years ago. Words were just as much a tool used for success as any weapon he’d wielded in his countless years in espionage. Lying was second-nature to him at this point.

Yet, for the first time in what felt like forever, he’d meant every word he’d said.

Yor wanted him to relax, so for her sake he’d do just that: relax. And so he decided against waking the woman at his side, choosing instead to wrap an arm around her, gently repositioning her so her head rests safely against him. Settling in himself, he rests his head against hers before closing his eyes, giving in to the warmth of the body beside him. Tomorrow will no doubt bring with it new headaches and annoyances, but just for tonight he’ll permit himself to enjoy this fleeting moment of tranquility.

“Goodnight, Yor.”


End file.
